Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Julian Alfred Pankratz hadn’t been heard of for years. He spent a few days on that mountain before leaving. Jaskier left more than his pride behind that day. Someone would likely find shattered pieces of Jaskier’s heart if they were to search for it. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t been acting quite like himself. He traveled less, sang less, and wrote less songs. It wasn’t the same without Geralt of Rivia around. He didn’t care if he was booed anymore or if he was getting bread thrown at him. Hey- it was food! Still, nothing was good anymore. Nothing was the same. Despite Geralt dressing in monochromatic tones, the Witcher seemed to give Jaskier’s world color. Who was he supposed to write songs about? He once promised to write Geralt the best ballad ever and sing it for the rest of his life. What did that matter if the Witcher never heard it? Even though he was traveling less, there were rare occasions he would play. He only ever hoped for Geralt to walk through the tavern door, but he never did. Perhaps this was just how life was supposed to be.. Jaskier was starting to believe that Geralt had forgotten all about him.

Eventually,  Jaskier was offered to play in a tavern near Nilfgaard; an old lover assured Jaskier he’d get food and pay and a place to stay. He knew going near Nilfgaard was dangerous, but he hasn’t been around Geralt in years. He thought he’d be safe. After all, he couldn’t be questioned about being someone’s travel companion if he hadn’t seen said travel companion in years! Unfortunately, that ignorance was what got him into trouble that day. After his performance, Nilfgaaradian guards brought him outside and started questioning him. They had been searching for the white wolf for quite a long time, and they were hoping to get answers from the bard. The interrogation took place outside of the bar he had just performed in. His back was uncomfortably pressed against the trunk of a tree as the collar of his shirt was being gripped. A shiny dagger was at his throat. These Nilfgaardians were desperate for answers, and Jaskier wasn’t thrilled that the place that housed his vocal chords was being threatened. Still, he hadn’t seen Geralt in years! What was he supposed to say? ‘The Witcher tore my heart out of my chest, and even if I knew where he was I wouldn’t tell you?’ No. The bard may have some audacity, but he wasn’t that bold when his life was being threatened. He thought things couldn’t get worse after these villains had smashed his lute, but that dagger was being pressed closer and closer. Jaskier was sure this would be the end. He’d never get to see his old travel companion ever again. 

Not wanting to give an answer, Jaskier was soon dragged into the Nilfgaardian kingdom. The broken shards of his lute left in a trail behind him. The bard would leave a lot more behind than his lute that day. Jaskier was losing his jaunty look, and the pep in his step. It wasn’t like he had that when he started the day anyways. With all these questions of the Witcher? Jaskier was beginning to wonder where he really had gone. He hoped that the man hadn’t slowed and gotten killed. Geralt deserved a glorious death. Jaskier didn’t want to hear some sort of creature had struck him down. Geralt deserved better. Perhaps he even had a better travel companion. A bard’s singing voice that was not quite as lackluster… one who could write much better songs than he ever could.

Why did he care so much? Geralt hadn’t even woke him up that day on the mountain. No one did. He was easy to leave behind. So why did these Nilfgaardians want him so bad? Wasn’t it clear that he was just the bard rejected by the Witcher? He meant nothing to Geralt of Rivia. Even so, he was just as curious as these Nilfgaardians about Geralt’s whereabouts. Jaskier’s Heart seemed to be missing a few shards. Perhaps his lute was not the only thing broken. 

“Dammit, Jaskier!” The white haired wolf had turned around to face the bard in his red outfit. “Why is when I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s you shoveling it?!” Some spit had left Geralt’s lips as he shouted at the bard. 

The cold breeze stung Jaskier’s skin, but it wasn’t the only part of him that burned with pain. “That’s not fair.” He returned. Jaskier’s voice lost some of the normal tone it had. The sass was still evident, but he was visibly upset. The light inside of his blue eyes had died. 

Geralt’s glare didn’t ease up even though Jaskier’s tone of voice had a pleasing tone. He should stop, shouldn’t he? “The child surprise, the Dijin, all of it!” Jaskier was present for all these events. It was true. If it weren’t for the bard, he would have never had Ciri as a child surprise. Even if it was destiny… Geralt didn’t believe in that. It was Jaskier’s fault for dragging him to that ball. The Dijin situation happened and Jaskier got injured. This resulted in them meeting Yennefer… and Geralt would not have had to deal with her if it weren’t for the bard. “If life could give me one blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands.”

As his heart ached more than he ever had before, Jaskier watched the Witcher in armor turn away from him. “Alright then..” He wiggled his finger. The slight fidget kept him calm as his sadness remained on his face. “See you around, Geralt.” 

So why did he still care again? His blue eyes never regained their sparkle after that day. As mad as he was with the Witcher, Jaskier still knew he was at fault. He dragged Geralt to the ball to protect him, and he was the one who smashed the Dijin. He angered it… Jaskier knew part of his broken heart was his own fault too. Geralt might not have met Yennefer if he had not been so reckless. Jaskier watched him be with another woman. At least, Geralt was happy… Well, was he? 

The trail to Nilfgaard was not extremely long. In fact, it was rather short. After all, Jaskier was playing in a tavern just outside of the kingdom. The bard felt fear enter his system. It ran up his spine. His fears wrapping his stomach into knots, and causing his heart to pick up the pace. He had heard Nilfgaard took no prisoners, so where exactly were they going to put him? Were they just planning to torture and kill him? Jaskier had heard sometimes torture involved stretching limbs out, twisting spines, using magical curses, or hanging prisoners by their toe nails. The bard’s mind was running rapid with what they would be doing to him. Apparently, it didn’t always pay off to have a wandering mind full of creativity. 

Slowly, Jaskier’s heart soon started to long for the Witcher much more than he ever thought it could. Where was his hero now? Even if Jaskier cried out for him, he was sure that Geralt would not hear him this time. The Witcher was a smart man. Why would he ever come to Nilfgaard? That was the big plot hole in the Nilfgaardian's plans. They could not bait Geralt into coming into the kingdom. Geralt wouldn’t come here… not even for Jaskier.

“No treasure is worth dying for.”

It was sometimes crazy to Jaskier how well he could recall the Witcher’s voice. In truth, it never seemed to leave Jaskier’s mind. He had been the man’s travel companion for so long. Perhaps Geralt could still remember his voice! Jaskier just supposed that was another question he would never get the answer to. He also supposed he would never see Geralt again. The bard likely would not live to see another day... 

Never again would Jaskier dance in sunlight, or bask in the golden rays of the fiery sphere to write ballads. It wasn’t like he’d been able to create any tunes. Jaskier wondered if that was why he had never written about that day Geralt left him behind. His heart bruised and battered… he could never put it into lyrics. Jaskier knew he was still healing, and it would be awhile before those emotional wounds had completely closed shut. Unfortunately, his brain never assisted him, and no healer could mend what broke the bard.  Those invisible wounds were not for everyone’s eyes, nor their ears.  It was best the details of their quarrel were kept private; otherwise, Jaskier would have erased all the hard work he had done. Jaskier didn’t want to dirty Geralt’s name anyhow.

Unlike Jaskier, the Nilfgaardians had no problem dragging the white haired wolf’s name through the mud. It pissed the bard off to no end, but he tried not to show any sign of it. These villains had roughed the bard up the entire way there. It seemed they were dragging Jaskier there as they allowed his kneecaps to scrape the ground. Rocks would cling to the open wounds like a newborn to their mother, and Jaskier would let out a slightly painful hiss as they did so. It only brought a smile to the Nilfgaardians faces. Jaskier would attempt to bite his own pink lips to keep his pain to himself, but the bard was vocal in every aspect of life it seemed. Blood was going down in a cascade from his kneecaps down to his brown boots. 

Leaking kneecaps was not all Jaskier would be left with. His shoulders were sore just from the way he was being dragged. He was doing his best just keep himself calm instead of looking at his captors’ terrifying faces. Jaskier was continually beaten, battered, and bruised as he was led to a prison cell, and thrown in there. This caused Jaskier to gain a few scrapes on the heels of his hands. “Oh, fancy. I didn’t imagine you’d actually have these.” 

A guard shot a glare in Jaskier’s direction. “Well, some are special enough to keep in cells.” 

“We need you alive to get the one we truly want.”

As the dungeon door closed, Jaskier felt his heart fall from his chest into his stomach and out of the bottom of his ass. “Bullocks.” He muttered. These Nilfgaardians were going to try and bait Geralt here after all. There was no way Geralt would actually come; the only question on Jaskier’s mind was when were they going to kill him off? How long would these people wait? They didn’t seem like patient people. 

“Don’t worry, bard.” A guard spat. “We’ll come back to have our fun with you in a moment.  Your shrieks will be heard from miles around.”

Even the threat caused Jaskier’s skin to grow multiple shades paler. Just what exactly were these people going to do to him? Their cruel minds and bodies walked away from the dungeon the bard was thrown into. Knowing this would be his last moments alone, Jaskier’s handsome blue eyes began to scan the room. This would be where he died. It wasn’t like that mattered much to Jaskier anyhow. His life wasn’t truly fulfilled without his travel companion. That’s all he’d ever be known for. He was Geralt’s bard. Would anyone even remember his name?

As he took in his surroundings, he noticed there were little things in the dungeon. Debris, crumbs of dirt, old maroon blood stains, and dead flowers. The petals were pressed into the ground. Jaskier noticed they were stained. His brain began to flood with memories.  

While taking a break from walking, Jaskier noticed there had been a few flowers here and there. They seemed quite healthy, and they looked so beautiful like this. Not wanting to pick any of the flowers in bloom? He ended up only picking dandelions. That was not only because dandelions were a weed, but because that was a name some knew him by. Jaskier quite liked the weed anyhow. Some may view it as a pester and annoying; however, others looked to the flower as if it held true beauty. He ended up weaving the stems together in a way to make a little crown. He placed one on his head at first before he ended up nearly skipping over to Geralt to place one on his head. He was humming as he did so with a gleeful little smile on his face. Jaskier was just in his own world, wasn’t he?

“Jaskier, I’m not going to wear this.”

With a small pout on his face, Jaskier sassily crossed his arms. “Come on, why not?” He poked and prodded with his words. “I could even make one for Roach! We would be a dynamic trio. Travel companions! The best of the best, too. We could-”

Geralt gave Jaskier a stern look, and it certainly got him to shut up. “If I put it on, will you stop?” He grumbled. In truth, the voice of the bard never truly bothered the Witcher. Jaskier’s voice was much more than a pie without filling. 

The bard happily accepted the offer from Geralt. He seemed to wiggle a bit and dance as Geralt allowed him to place the crown of dandelions on his head. The bard’s happiness seemed to bring the tiniest of smiles onto the Witcher’s face. Jaskier called that a success. 

As the day went on, things remained peaceful. That was until the two were faced with a situation where Geralt had to fight. He seemed slightly more angry when he was insulted for the flower crown Jaskier had given him. The blood of Geralt’s enemies stained the dandelions that rested around his head. Still, Jaskier was honored the Witcher hadn’t taken it off. 

Somehow it was worse to remember the happy times. Things had been very good with Geralt for a while. Sure, Jaskier never felt like he could truly keep up with the Witcher, but he had tried his best back when he was around Geralt. Jaskier always tried his best for Geralt’s sake. For some reason, he wanted to impress the Witcher. Hell, at one point he asked Geralt to run away with him! Why couldn’t they just run away? Then the bard would not have to be in the awful place he was in now. He could be where he wanted: next to Geralt of Rivia.

All he had to accompany him now were whatever lost souls had also lost their lives in this dungeon. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.. Jaskier was all alone. He usually was in his life. Jaskier just felt significantly less lonely when he was around the Witcher. He missed him. Jaskier missed more than anything. Now, he was just hoping Geralt wouldn’t show up for once. He hoped the Witcher was far away from where Nilfgaard was. He would rather have his life taken from him than see Geralt again. Geralt had to stay safe. Jaskier’s mortal life was nothing but a speck of dirt compared to Geralt's. He would give himself up. In truth, it wasn’t like Jaskier had a choice. He didn’t know where Geralt was, but it didn’t matter. The bard would put his life on the line for the Witcher. 

Clearly, that was the idea these Nilfgaardian guards had for the bard. Their torture was going to be something beyond cruel. Jaskier was held in shackles tight against the wall. His wrists and ankles were bound. He knew he would certainly gain marks on those parts of his body due to how tight they were fastened around him. Jaskier was trembling slightly. He couldn’t believe he was about to meet his end. As much as he didn’t want to think about it, Jaskier was about to face death all because of Geralt. So who was shoveling who’s pile of shit now? Well, the Nilfgaardians were it seemed, but that wasn’t the point now was it? 

Pulling the bard’s luscious locks back to expose his neck, another shining dagger pressed just below his Adam’s apple. He was being given one last chance to tell them where Geralt was or face the consequences. All of this due to the fact Jaksier was once associated with the Witcher… The bard should know how to hold strong. He spent so much time Geralt, and Geralt did that all the time. However, Jaskier was a very different man from Geralt. Tears were already going down his face. Surely, this was the end.

Biting his lip in an attempt to keep it from quivering, the hot tears poured from his eyes slowly. He had to be able to get a few words out. Jaskier would not stand 

idle and not speak to these villains. Even as the dagger was pressed closer and he was questioned, the bard knew he must speak. “I don’t know where Geralt is! Okay! And even if I did? It wouldn’t matter. He’d outrun you, or better yet? He’d face you like a real man instead of using other people for pawns in a sick and twisted game. You could never face Geralt of Rivia. He’s fought creatures much mightier than you bastards.” If this was going to be his end, he might as well go out the best way he could: with sass. “Break my bones and lute. Take my clothes and gold. I don’t care what you do with me, but you will never find Geralt of Rivia. You will never kill the man you hunt for.” These Nilfgaardians could take his life, but they couldn’t take Jaskier’s personality out of him no matter how fearful he was. That bard had a fire in him, and it wouldn’t go out until he stopped breathing. 

For that moment, Jaskier had kept his composure. Once the Nilfgaardian guards laughed and mocked him? The bard felt his heart sink for the thousandth time that day. Those were his final words, and he was proud. These guards didn’t fatally slit his throat, but left a terrible cut in it. It only reminded Jaskier of the last time his neck had been injured. The Dijin… 

No. Life was not that simple anymore. Jaskier did not have the Witcher there to protect him. There would be no saving. This time he would be tortured with no help. It was fine, wasn’t it? Jaskier didn’t want Geralt anywhere near where he was. He wanted him to stay safe. Although, it seemed these guards weren’t kidding about Jaskier screaming so loud that anyone could hear him no matter the distance. His voice would echo off the hallowed walls of the dungeon.

One of the guards brought a torch to the fringe of Jaskier's shirt. The end of it rested by his forearm. The plan was to singe his clothes, and cause burns to Jaskier’s skin. The heat was unbearable, and these Nilfgaardians were only getting started with the bard who was screeching. Within these cries, Geralt’s name might have been mentioned once or twice. Despite years of being apart, it was still ingrained in the bard’s brain to cry out for Geralt - the man who always protected him no matter the circumstance. Where was he now that he needed him? 

Those who had captured Jaskier proceeded to mock him, and laugh. They’d ask him teasing questions, and make fun of his song lyrics. Jaskier didn’t have the heart to listen to them. Hurt him as much as they want, but they will not besmirch the good name he made for Geralt through his songs. He worked hard on his songs. Despite insecurity sometimes creeping into his mind, Jaskier was tremendously proud of those songs he wrote about Geralt. These verbal insults would not count towards the torture. Only the blistering of his skin from the fire was truly causing him pain. That was until he was asked when the last time he saw the Witcher was… 

Jaskier tried to snap out of his head as he was withstanding physical pain. Sure, he didn’t necessarily want to keep his attention there either, but it was better being trapped within his own mind. His head did lull back as he took a harsh slap to the fast. It seemed these guards wanted answers from Jaskier. They were trying to collect information on Geralt even if that information was years old. It was a tad difficult to try to form words as his flesh was being burned, but he assumed this torture was only going to get worse from here. Even so… he would give these wicked beings no information about Geralt. The man mattered too much for Jaskier to give anything up - well, anything except his life. 

Getting the hint Jaskier would be a tougher nut to crack than they thought, so they proceeded to hurt him other ways. Physically beating him. Some of the injuries were quick and fast, and others were slowly given to him. The dull pain turning into full on throbbing as time passed. Jaskier swore he heard the breaking of his own ribs. He certainly wasn’t as strong as he wished he was. Blood had dripped from his lips as he has taken quite the beating too. His skin was blistering from the burns from the torch still. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn’t want to fall asleep in fear he may never wake up ever again. That was until he heard a familiar grunt.

Suddenly, Jaskier’s eyes flew up as he turned to hear where the sound came from. Despite the dungeon being dimly lit, the bard could see who was there. The slight light that was there shone on the wolf amulet around the man’s neck. Jaskier’s eyes attempted to focus on the man’s white hair. There stood Geralt of Rivia. His sword in hand; ready to defend his bard.

Chapter Text

Geralt of Rivia was convinced he never needed anyone, but discovered that he may need one person. Part of him wondered why that person had to be Jaskier. Of all the people in the world, why him? Jaskier had been a thorn in his side since they first met. Well, no matter how irritated Geralt got with him, he still deeply cared about Jaskier and wanted to protect him So where had the Witcher been all this time? His now amber-yellow eyes were looking at the man he used to be constantly traveling with. Jaskier would follow him for fame, money, adventure, and so much more. Geralt didn’t know why he did, but he knew he missed the bard like hell in his time away from him. It appeared Geralt was prepared to be there for Jaskier just like old times. The good times…

Needless to say, the Witcher was a dick to the bard when they had their falling out. Sure, Jaskier was there when Geralt had faced adversity. This was not necessarily the bard’s fault. Jaskier was always by Geralt’s side. It just so happened life really sucked for a while. From the looks of it, Jaskier’s life wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. The bard was bloody, beaten, burned, and bruised. How could Geralt ever allow people to mistreat his bard like such? Well, he supposed Jaskier hadn’t been his bard… not for a long time. Was it chimerical to believe things could go back to the way they used to be?

No matter the answer to the question that lingered in the back of Geralt’s head, his hand was tightly gripping his sword. These Nilfgaardians would not get away with what they had done to Julian Alfred Pankratz - not if Geralt had a say in it. There were more Nilfgaardians than Geralt thought there would be, but it wasn’t that large a number. He’d likely be able to save the bard. 

A helpless look was on Jaskier’s face as a flame was held close to his ribs. He’d done what the Nilfgaardians wanted him to, scream loud enough for the Witcher to come into the kingdom. These villains had been searching for the Witcher, and now they had him. Jaskier was silently praying to whatever divine spirit above that Geralt would make it out of here alive. He didn’t care if he himself made it out or not. The world needed Geralt of Rivia. No one needed a Jaskier.

“Well, look what the bard’s shrieks brought in.” A guard said, almost hissing the words out in delight. There was still the desire to poke and prod Jaskier with whatever torture they could manage to curse him with, but all of the focus went to Geralt for now. 

Deep down Jaskier was longing to cry out for his hero, his protector, his friend, his travel companion, his.. Witcher. Geralt still meant everything to him. Yes, the bard was mad - pissed even - about the event on the mountain, but he still wanted to cry out for help. His voice was rather hoarse by now. For once, Jaskier had fallen completely silent. 

There was only one other time Geralt could remember the bard being this quiet. It was a very long night. It seemed like such a long time ago… everything felt extremely long without Jaskier by his side. 

Sitting by the brink of a river, Jaskier was soaking his toes in the water. His baby blue eyes gazed up the stars as he leaned back against his hands. Everything was calm that night, and that was a good thing too. The day had been stressful for both the bard and the Witcher. 

Noting that Jaskier wasn’t near the campfire he set up, Geralt’s eyes wandered off into the distance. Geralt had spent some time patching up some of the injuries sword fighting had earned him that day. He’d heal in no time, but he really got beat up that day. He was sure that Jaskier wasn’t getting himself into trouble, but he didn’t want to take the risk either. Today had been exhausting enough.

Eventually, Geralt found his beloved travel companion sitting by a river bank. The Witcher stayed quiet as he thought the bard might be humming or singing. (Not like Geralt spoke that much in the first place). Geralt wanted to hear Jaskier sing because he actually did enjoy hearing his voice. Jaskier had quite the range, and his voice was very smooth. It even had a sweet tone to it. The Witcher was concerned when he didn’t hear his dandelion singing at all. He usually could never shut his mouth. Why was his dandelion being so silent? 

Jaskier didn’t even look up as Geralt sat down next to him. The grunt from Geralt is what caught his attention. “Hey.” The word lacked the happy go lucky tone Jaskier usually had. He only spoke one word, but it felt so heavy. “You alright?” He asked the Witcher. 

Silently, Geralt nodded. This was all he had to offer in response to Jaskier. It seemed the bard wasn’t formulating another response though. Was he expecting them just to sit there silently stargazing? No. That felt wrong. “Jask? Are you okay?”

The question had taken Jaskier by surprise. The Witcher was asking him about how he was feeling? Gosh, things really were odd that day. “Just worried, Geralt. I’ll be fine.” Jaskier appeared to be soft spoken for the first time since Geralt had met him. Still, it was all the bard had to offer for a response. It had been a very exhausting day. Jaskier tried to cast his gaze back down to the river. Without the sun’s rays, the river appears black as night. It was also the only thing providing any kind of noise except for the occasional cricket chirp. 

Geralt did not enjoy the silence at all, but he had no choice in it. He was not much of a conversationalist, and he was the one often looking for some kind of blissful quiet. Even so, there was something eerie about Jaskier keeping his mouth shut. Well, if Jaskier said he was going to be fine, Geralt was sure he would be alright in time. Perhaps they were just both exhausted. 

This situation appeared to be much more grim than just a long day. No, Geralt had to find a way for Jaskier to get out of here. Geralt knew it did not matter if it was him who escaped or not since the nilfgaardians were looking for him. Still, he needed to find a way to get back to Ciri, and more importantly? Roach. He had left his beloved horse with his child surprise in another town. He told Ciri if he did not return with Jaskier then she needed to continue on without him. Part of Geralt wondered if Jaskier would even follow him again. Sure, the money was good, but would Jaskier even want to go with him after their last conversation? 

Shifting his sword in his hand, he attempted to just study the dungeon they were in. There were no secret passageways, and none of the walls looked loose enough to move. The only way out was the way Geralt had come in. He was determined to make sure Jaskier made it to the exit if it was the last thing he did. These nilfgaardians would not get away with torturing his dandelion. No one messed with Geralt’s bard. “I’m the one you want. Step away from Jaskier.”

“Oh, does he mean something to you, Witcher?” The Nilfgaardian with the torch questioned. He was watching Jaskier struggle to speak. He found so much joy as he watched the bard’s lip quiver. “Poor thing said he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Isn’t that right, bard?” The guard spat in his face. 

Jaskier closed his eyes once he felt the saliva hit his skin. He didn’t have the voice to respond to this villainous elf. He swallowed, and let out a hoarse squeak as he was elbowed in the gut and told to speak. He had coughed up some crimson blood that stained his lips. “Yes…” His eyes suddenly cast down towards the ground. He could not look at Geralt. Why would he be so foolish to come after him? He did not deserve to be saved if he had caused Geralt so much trouble. 

“Let him go.” Geralt said after a moment as if it were a warning, and he heard the Nilfgaardians laugh and cackle at him. Their teasing words did not seem to phase him. They had to let Jaskier go if they wanted Geralt to do anything. The Nilfgaardians definitely thought they were getting some kind of trade for letting Jaskier go free. Once they had unshackled Jaskier, he had fallen onto his knees and caught himself on his wrists. Geralt was unsure if he had ever seen Jaskier so beaten up and bruised; it worried him to a great degree. Jaskier was just a normal human, so the Witcher worried that he may die since he was so fragile. 

Like a small hurt animal, Jaskier scattered to his feet and tried to keep himself up right. Before Jaskier could fall over again, Geralt caught him by wrapping an arm around his waist. It was rare for Geralt to even make contact with someone, so Jaskier felt honored Geralt would catch him to save him - especially after everything that had happened. Suddenly, Jaskier felt much more safe. He never thought he would see Geralt again, but now here he was. What did he do to deserve such a good friend? 

For only a moment, all was still. Jaskier’s blue eyes shut as he enjoyed the silence. It was rare Jaskier got moments like these since he himself was so loud, but he could enjoy the peace for now. It wasn’t like he could use his voice anyways… Part of him hoped the Nilfgaardians would let them go without a fight, but that was just the bard’s wishful thinking. Geralt always said he could be quite chimerical in his dreams, writings, and thoughts; suddenly, to the bard’s dismay,  there was the sound of weapons clashing against one another. Geralt had moved Jaskier to stand behind him, and the Witcher felt the bard hug his waist. Geralt did not care about anything right now except for getting out of there safely. Well, he at least wanted Jaskier to get out safely. He focused on how his sword crossed with enemies in hopes of learning their battle patterns. There was no guarantee that Geralt of Rivia could best these Nilfgaardians, but he was going to try his best to save the bard and himself. 

Jaskier could not bring himself to open his eyes right now. He already had to withstand so much torture in one day, so he was just hanging by a thread. Seeing Geralt, as relieving as it was, still hurt him to no end. Being left behind on the mountain that day was nothing short of a horrendous breakup, but perhaps it only felt that way to Jaskier since he might’ve fallen in love with the Witcher for a hot second there. For now, he kept those feelings out of his head because he had to keep himself conscious. 

In the midst of trying to keep his head clear enough to stay awake, he realized there were several Nilfgaardians on the guard, and a slightly wounded Geralt in front of him when his eyes had opened. Some of the ends of his white hair were singed, and a few burn marks on his hands where he was wielding his sword. “G-... Geralt.”

The call was weak, but the Witcher had heard it anyhow. Jaskier still remembered him, and still needed him in the same way he did before. Geralt wondered why Jaskier still called for him in the same way. Why did the bard still care? Instead of responding, he ended up groaning as he looked at the bard for a moment. There was no way that Jaskier could walk in this condition, and there was a limit on how much time they had. Quickly, he hoisted his dandelion over his shoulder. He made his way out of the Nilfgaard dungeon with guilt still weighing heavy on his slow heart. 

As the duo made their way out of the dreadful dungeon, Geralt was beginning to think of what he could say to the bard, but he was guessing he would not be able to have too much of a conversation with Jaskier. Unfortunately, Jaskier still did not have too much of a voice thanks to the torture he just went through. Geralt of Rivia also supposed that it was his fault since Jaskier was only dragged there because he knew him. What had he done to this mortal? Jaskier had limited years on this planet, and he should not be suffering so much. Well, to live was to suffer in Geralt’s eyes, but he knew Jaskier didn’t view the world in the same way. Geralt hoped that hadn’t changed… 

It took awhile for them to get to safety, but Geralt found them a hiding spot just outside of Nilfgaard in the woods. He listened for a moment and made sure nobody was following him before he sat Jaskier down beside him. He was breathing. Good. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked, appearing not to be out of breath at all, and there was no pain in his voice despite the injuries he had received from Jaskier’s torturers. 

Slowly, Jaskier nodded as his eyelids nearly fluttered shut. It was clearly that Jaskier needed a healer. He didn’t know if he had anything to say in Geralt; his body was begging him to fall asleep and stay that way for a long while. Jaskier rubbed one of his blue eyes before noticing a blood stain in Geralt’s center. The bard brought himself to his knees and looked at the Witcher with great pains in those big blue eyes of his. “Geralt… you’re hurt.” He struggled to say, his voice still hoarse. It pained him to speak. 

The wound Geralt gained might have been fatal, but it didn’t seem to bother him as much as the beaten up bard in front of him. Saving Jaskier was much more important to the White Wolf right now. “Jaskier, you need to remain quiet.” Geralt insisted. Before Jaskier could protest again, Geralt knelt beside him and covered his mouth with his hand. The grip wasn’t firm as it normally would be; Geralt was taking caution as he got close to Jaskier. “You don’t have to worry about me, Jask.”

That’s the thing though, Jaskier was always worried about Geralt. This man had kept him safe for so long, and all Jaskier did was write him songs. Those songs were what caused the Nilfgaardians to find them. Perhaps the witcher was right about the bard. Perhaps all he was worth was troublesome and burdensome. Jaskier hugged himself as his aching body trembled in front of Geralt. He knew his voice was strained, and he was in great pain. He just didn’t want to be responsible for the fatal wound in his witcher’s torso. He couldn’t be held responsible for Geralt’s death. Jaskier looked up at Geralt for a moment with a brow raised. 

For a moment, Geralt was thankful Jaskier was so expressive with his face even when he was injured. He knew what Jaskier was asking him. “Roach isn’t with me.” That was all the answer the bard was getting. Geralt left Roach somewhere safe for the time being. He wasn’t going to risk the life of the mare he cared for. Right now, his focus was rescuing Jaskier who he hadn’t seen in a long time. He was about to say something else to Julian when he suddenly heard footsteps. He immediately got to his feet and offered a hand to Jaskier. 

There were always options, wasn’t there? Jaskier wanted to take Geralt’s hand and run with him; however, if he took his hand that did not mean the pain from the past magically disappeared. He was not just going to forgive and forget… but this was a matter of life and death. There was no room for Jaskier to be dramatic. He took Geralt’s hand in his, and he let himself be lifted into Geralt’s arms. It was probably for the best anyhow; there was no way in hell Jaskier would be able to run right now. 

Once the bard was in his arms, Geralt took off without any second thoughts. He was going to get both himself and Jaskier to safety as soon as he could. The bard may not have a lot of life left in him, but Geralt would never let Jaskier die. No. There was this pull that wanted him to keep the bard close to him. Yes, Julian Alfred Pankratz would be an absolute dunce sometimes, but… there was something about Jaskier that made Geralt want to keep him around. His dandelion meant more to him than he would ever care to admit. He was just hoping Jaskier would agree to sticking around. He knew he probably owed the bard an apology for what had happened in their past, and this was not the time or place for it. As much as Geralt wanted to ask if this apology of rescuing Jaskier was more than enough, he knew the bard would want more from him. Jaskier was always looking for more… and maybe, just maybe, Geralt of Rivia was alright with putting in some extra effort to gain Jaskier’s forgiveness. Honestly, he would not want to go on living knowing his dear travel companion was upset with him. After all, this was his dandelion… Jaskier was Geralt’s flower, and that meant he had to care for him, and pay much more attention to him when his petals were wilting. Geralt would make sure Jaskier’s petals never wilted again if he could survive through this. 

Being in Geralt’s arms offered a sense of familiarity to Jaskier. Even though his creative mind could race with thoughts of everything could go wrong, he was sure everything would be alright now. He was back in the arms of his hero and protector. Yes, it pained him to be around someone who wounded him, but if he could be around Geralt again he was sure life would be happier again. The colors would be brighter… it would just take some time to fix what had gone wrong. Hopefully, he would be more than a worthy travel companion to Geralt; he wanted to follow the man for the rest of his days if he would allow it. 

The journey they took away from Nilfgaard was long, but they reached someone who could mend their wounds soon enough. Jaskier’s recovery would be longer and harder than Geralt’s would be, but there was assurance the bard would live. During their time at the healer, they would have time to rebuild everything and know each other once again. Geralt was never going to let go of Jaskier again. Many would think Geralt was stuck with Jaskier, the bard was loud and irritating, but the witcher saw it the other way around. Jaskier was stuck with Geralt because in truth? If Geralt didn’t want Jaskier around, he wouldn’t be around. After tasting what life without him was like, the witcher never wanted to go back. From now on, he would take care of his travel companion, his bard, his Dandelion… no matter what it took.